Tuesday, October 20, 2026

MY NEW BOOK : "KASHMIR : LORE, LIES AND LAMENT" AVAILABLE ON AMAZON WORLDWIDE

                                                                               


KASHMIR: LORE, LIES AND LAMENT
by Avtar Mota
( 22 EVOCATIVE, RESEARCH-BASED AND ENGROSSING ESSAYS ON KASHMIR WITH PHOTOGRAPHS )
Published in October 2026
Available on Amazon worldwide...

IN INDIA ( Paperback And Hardcover)

(1)Notion Press

https://notionpress.com/in/read/kashmir-lore-lies-and-lament?book=published&utm_source=share_publish_email&utm_medium=email

(2) Amazon

https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0HNSFS25V



OVERSEAS ( Paperback And Hardcover )


(1) USA

(2) UK

(3) Canada

This is how Amazon introduces the book: 'KASHMIR: LORE, LIES AND LAMENT'

"What does it mean to inherit a civilisation, and what happens when its wisdom is forgotten and its cultural treasures neglected, and its people torn away from their ancestral homeland? In Kashmir: Lore, Lies and Lament, Avtar Mota explores these compelling questions through a remarkable collection of essays that penetrate the many layers of Kashmir’s historical memory, philosophical achievement, literary genius, social diversity and human suffering. Moving beyond the familiar confines of political narratives, the author presents Kashmir as a civilisation of extraordinary intellectual depth, spiritual inquiry and cultural richness, while confronting the distortions, omissions and losses that have shaped its modern experience. The book’s title captures its essential spirit: lore represents the accumulated wisdom and inherited memories of generations; lies challenge the distortions and convenient interpretations through which history is sometimes presented; and lament expresses the grief of displacement, cultural neglect and the disappearance of a cherished world. Together, these themes transform the volume into an engaging exploration of what Kashmir has inherited, what it risks forgetting and what must be preserved for posterity.
At the heart of this collection are essays on two towering figures of Kashmir’s intellectual heritage, Lal Ded and Abhinavagupta. Lal Ded emerges not merely as a celebrated mystic poet but as a profound spiritual thinker whose utterances must be understood in the philosophical context of Trika Shaivism and in relation to the wider questioning of religious formalism associated with the Bhakti tradition. Abhinavagupta’s non-dual vision invites readers to contemplate the relationship between the perceiver, perception and the universe, opening a window into the remarkable metaphysical sophistication of Kashmir’s philosophical traditions. The book also explores Buddhism in Kashmir, Tilakacharya, the Mahabharata’s ties to the region, and the historical connections along the Kashmir-Taxila axis. Its engagement with Samad Mir and his Akanandun celebrates the vitality of Kashmiri poetry and its intimate relationship with collective memory. Equally fascinating is the account of Kashmir's Parsis, including families associated with Srinagar’s Bund area, whose lives illuminate a distinctive strand of the valley’s social history. The anecdotes scattered through these explorations are among the book’s special attractions. Often humorous, ironic and brutally truthful, they capture the contradictions, pretensions and everyday absurdities of human behaviour, preserving a social world that formal histories rarely record with comparable immediacy.
The book’s emotional force becomes particularly evident in its examination of the 1990 displacement of Kashmiri Pandits and the continuing consequences of their separation from ancestral homes, family histories and familiar cultural landscapes. The loss of family photographs, the weakening of inherited connections and the pain of dispossession reveal how exile destroys not only material security but also the intimate foundations of memory and belonging. Mota also turns a critical eye towards the Shri Pratap Singh Museum in Srinagar, questioning the inadequacy of interpretative labelling and the failure to communicate the full historical and artistic significance of Kashmir’s priceless heritage. Combining philosophical reflection, literary appreciation, historical inquiry, cultural criticism, sharp humour and poignant recollection, Kashmir: Lore, Lies and Lament offers a multifaceted portrait of a region whose story cannot be reduced to conflict or political slogans. It is a valuable read for lovers of Kashmir, students of Indian philosophy, readers of Kashmiri literature, researchers of cultural history and members of the diaspora seeking a deeper connection with their inheritance."
( Avtar Mota )

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Monday, October 19, 2026

BOOK REVIEW: OUR KIND OF GAMES BY A. S. DULAT

                                                                                


BOOK REVIEW: OUR KIND OF GAMES BY A. S. DULAT

 

In the world of intelligence, information is power, trust is provisional, and what remains unsaid may matter more than what is revealed. A. S. Dulat’s ‘Our Kind of Games' invites readers into this elusive world, where political calculations, personal relationships and competing loyalties intersect in the troubled landscape of Kashmir. Written by a former head of R&AW, the book draws its appeal from the author’s proximity to events and his familiarity with the people who inhabit the shadowy space between official policy and covert engagement. A.S. Dulat served as the head of the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), India’s spy agency, under Prime Minister A.B. Vajpayee. He later joined Vajpayee’s Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), where his job was to ‘monitor, manage, and direct’ the government of India’s peace initiative in Kashmir.

 Dulat writes with the ease of a seasoned raconteur, turning recollections and conversations into an accessible narrative. Yet the book raises a question beyond the fascination of its subject: how much can an insider’s memoir reveal about a world built on secrecy, and how much of what it reveals will remain significant once the stories have been told? The foreword by Dr Farooq Abdullah deserves particular mention for its lucidity, clarity and convincing presentation. Written in a direct and accessible style, it provides an effective introduction to the political and human complexities surrounding Kashmir. Abdullah’s foreword complements Dulat’s narrative by establishing a context for the recollections that follow.

One of the book’s principal strengths is its narrative style. Dulat writes in a conversational, unpretentious manner, making a specialised and frequently secretive subject accessible to the general reader. He relies on dialogue, anecdote and personal recollection rather than elaborate explanations of intelligence procedures. The result is a narrative that moves with considerable ease. His professional experience lends authority to many of his observations, while his willingness to recount personal encounters gives the book a human dimension. His prose is not especially ornate, but it serves its purpose: Dulat knows how to hold a reader’s attention without making the subject unnecessarily forbidding.

The personalities who populate the narrative contribute to its appeal. Ranjit Soni, a central intelligence officer in the account, is joined by figures such as Avatar, Shahbaz, Dilshada, Jaanseb, Qureshi, Mrs Jain, Imran, Major Ali and Rehana. Their interactions illuminate the complicated relationships that emerge in an atmosphere of suspicion, political uncertainty and competing interests. Dulat understands that intelligence work depends not only on information and strategy but also on reading people, assessing motives and recognising the limits of personal trust. These characters lend movement and human interest to the narrative. Some, however, could have been developed further as individuals. They serve their purpose within the unfolding account, although not all acquire the psychological depth necessary to remain vividly in the reader’s memory.

The book’s wider significance lies in its evocation of Kashmir during the turbulent 1990s, when militancy, targeted killings, political instability and widespread fear transformed the lives of ordinary people. At that time, Dulat headed the Intelligence Bureau in Srinagar. Dulat’s recollections of innocent people killed during this period bring back an atmosphere of anguish and uncertainty that remains deeply embedded in Kashmir’s collective memory. His descriptions can stir both nostalgia and pain: nostalgia for the familiar world that existed before violence shattered everyday life, and pain for the human losses, broken relationships and vanished certainties that followed. Such nostalgia is never uncomplicated. For Kashmiri Pandits, in particular, memories of the Valley are inseparable from the trauma of mass displacement and the loss of their ancestral homes. Dulat’s account is most affecting when it moves beyond the calculations of intelligence work to acknowledge the human cost of political violence. These passages remind us that behind the terminology of security, strategy and negotiation lie individual lives, often irreparably damaged by events over which ordinary people have little control.

Equally illuminating is Dulat’s conversation with an illiterate Shikarawallah who recognises him. The encounter is striking in its simplicity and human significance. It suggests that even in a profession defined by secrecy, anonymity and carefully managed identities, individuals may be remembered by people far removed from official institutions. It reminds a reader that history is not experienced exclusively by political leaders, policymakers or intelligence officers; it is also observed, remembered and endured by ordinary people whose lives become entangled in larger events.

Nevertheless, Dulat’s account remains one perspective on a complex historical period. An intelligence officer’s recollections can reveal aspects of decision-making and personal interaction that formal histories may overlook, but they cannot, by themselves, provide a comprehensive account of Kashmir’s political history or adequately represent the varied experiences of its people. The book is best read as an informed insider’s testimony, valuable for its particular vantage point but necessarily selective in its coverage and interpretation.

A more difficult question concerns the publication of intelligence-related recollections. Memoirs by former intelligence officials can serve the public interest by making institutions and their past activities more intelligible. Yet such writing requires particular care. Hostile intelligence agencies or organisations may attempt to connect names, incidents, note patterns and relationships to draw conclusions about operational practices, vulnerabilities or sources of information. This possibility does not establish that Dulat has disclosed classified material or compromised any operation. It does, however, underline the need for discretion. A former senior intelligence official has a responsibility to consider not only the historical interest of an anecdote but also the possible consequences of placing it in the public domain. The challenge is to preserve the value of personal testimony without inadvertently providing information that could be misused. This is a legitimate question about professional responsibility, not a reason to dismiss intelligence memoirs as a genre.

Another noticeable feature of the book is the recurring presence of alcohol, particularly Old Monk rum. These references help establish the informal atmosphere in which conversations take place and sometimes lend the narrative a recognisable social texture. They suggest how professional relationships may develop outside formal meetings and official settings. Nevertheless, the frequency of such references occasionally draws attention away from the more substantial issues under discussion. This is a reservation about emphasis and composition rather than a judgement on the author’s personal habits.

The principal limitation of ‘Our Kind of Games’ concerns its lasting impact. Dulat is an engaging storyteller, and many of his recollections hold the reader’s attention. Yet the immediacy of an anecdote does not always translate into deeper reflection. The episodes invite questions about loyalty, morality, political judgement and the human cost of conflict, but these possibilities are not invariably explored in sufficient depth. Readers seeking a sustained historical analysis or a searching examination of the ethical dilemmas inherent in intelligence work may therefore find the book less conclusive than its subject promises. Its strengths lie primarily in recollection, observation and narrative accessibility rather than systematic analysis.

This distinction matters because a book about intelligence operations has the potential to do more than recount encounters and describe personalities. It can examine the tension between national interest and individual conscience, the limits of secrecy, the uncertain boundary between negotiation and manipulation, and the consequences of decisions made with incomplete information. Dulat’s professional experience gives him a vantage point from which to explore such questions. At times, however, the narrative settles for telling the story rather than fully examining its wider implications. The result is readable and informative, but not always as intellectually probing as the subject might lead one to expect.

Dulat succeeds as a conversational narrator and an informed witness, though less consistently as an interpreter of the larger historical and moral questions surrounding his subject. The book should not be judged as a comprehensive history of Kashmir or a systematic study of intelligence operations; it does not set out to be either. Its achievement is more modest: it brings readers closer to the people and informal networks behind a largely hidden sphere of public life, while occasionally recovering the human anguish that can disappear beneath the language of strategy and security. It holds the reader’s attention and, in passages recalling the suffering of the 1990s, evokes emotions that extend beyond the world of intelligence. Yet its insights do not always linger after the final page. It is an engaging account of a secretive world, with moments of genuine human poignancy, even if it does not fully translate that access into lasting literary or intellectual significance.

 

(Avtar Mota )



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Sunday, October 18, 2026

THE BUND HOUSE: A STORY OF THE PARSIS OF KASHMIR



THE BUND HOUSE: A STORY OF THE PARSIS OF KASHMIR

                                                                  

                               ( Photo courtesy Robin Koul )
                               ( Photo  courtesy Robin Koul )                     

  (Pestonjee Building in Srinagar with the White Horse: Photo Courtesy Arvind Gigoo )

 

 The Parsis are members of the Zoroastrian community who migrated from Persia to India between the eighth and tenth centuries following the Arab conquest of Iran, seeking to preserve their faith. They first settled at Sanjan in Gujarat and came to be known as Parsis, a term derived from Pars, the old name for Persia. Today, they number fewer than sixty thousand, concentrated mainly in Mumbai and Gujarat. Despite their small population, their contribution to Indian commerce, industry and philanthropy, through business houses such as Tata, Godrej and Wadia, has been extraordinary.

Their religion, Zoroastrianism, was founded by the prophet Zarathustra and is one of the world's oldest monotheistic faiths. Zoroastrians believe in one God, Ahura Mazda, the Wise Lord and creator of all that is good. Their religious philosophy emphasises the struggle between Asha, representing truth and order, and Druj, representing falsehood and disorder, with Angra Mainyu associated with the forces of evil. Central to their ethical principles is the triad of Humata, Hukhta and Huvarshta, meaning Good Thoughts, Good Words and Good Deeds. Human beings possess free will and are expected to choose righteousness over falsehood. Fire is revered not as God itself but as a pure symbol of Ahura Mazda. Prayers are therefore offered before a sacred flame in a fire temple, known as an Agiary. Their scriptures are contained in the Avesta. Traditionally, Zoroastrians have sought to prevent the pollution of the earth, fire and water by consigning their dead to a Dakhma, commonly known as a Tower of Silence.

The Parsis have made an outstanding contribution to India's trade, commerce and industry. This small community established institutions that helped shape modern India. Great business houses, including Tata, Wadia and Shapoorji Pallonji, pioneered industrial development, shipping, motor vehicles, steel production and philanthropy. Their traditions of enterprise, integrity and charity earned them widespread respect across the subcontinent, including in the princely state of Jammu and Kashmir, where Parsi traders, professionals and businessmen established themselves during the Dogra period.

The Parsi presence in Kashmir, however, was never substantial in numerical terms. It was essentially built around three principal families who settled on the Bund in Srinagar, accompanied by a small number of professionals and individuals associated with trade and other occupations. The Dhanjibhoy, Pestonjee and Patel families became particularly familiar names in the city's commercial and social life. Their influence was far greater than their numbers might suggest. They established businesses, managed transport, served in administrative roles, dealt with European firms and became part of Srinagar's everyday life.

Their story is important because it illustrates how a small community, without a large religious establishment or a substantial population, could leave a lasting imprint on the cultural memory of a city. The Parsi chapter of Kashmir's history survives not through imposing monuments or grand institutions, but through family names, old buildings, business premises, recollections of individual personalities and a cemetery hidden within the Badami Bagh Cantonment.

Census figures underline the small size of the Parsi community in Jammu and Kashmir. The 1891 Census recorded nine Parsis in the state, comprising two women and seven men. Later figures record twenty-nine Parsis in the state in 1941. Other historical accounts give different totals for particular parts of the state, reflecting the need to distinguish between figures for Jammu and Kashmir as a whole and those for the Valley alone. The essential point remains unchanged. The Parsi population was small, yet its members became familiar figures in the commercial and social life of Srinagar.

ARRIVAL ON THE BUND, SRINAGAR

When the Jhelum ran grey and sluggish in the winter of 1892, and the chinar trees along the Bund stood bare, a Parsi gentleman from Bombay arrived in Srinagar by Tonga. He carried two steel trunks, a leather ledger and a letter from the Residency. His name was Dhanjibhoy. His family already operated trading establishments in Bombay, Zanzibar and Canton. They had learnt from the British Resident that Srinagar needed a reliable transport service capable of carrying post and passengers punctually. According to the account preserved in the family's history, Dhanjibhoy was allotted eleven kanals of land by Maharaja Hari Singh on a long-term lease for commercial purposes. The arrangement enabled him to establish a horse-drawn postal carriage service connecting Srinagar with Muzaffarabad and Rawalpindi. There, he erected a signboard in English and Urdu bearing the name M/S Imperial Carrying Company, followed by the words: Booking for Tongas, Parcels and Passengers. Srinagar to Muzaffarabad to Rawalpindi.

The Dhanjibhoy family had established commercial contacts in Rawalpindi and encountered little difficulty in setting up offices in both cities. Rawalpindi had developed into an important commercial gateway to Kashmir and Afghanistan following the establishment of a British cantonment in 1849. Parsi traders and professionals gradually became part of its commercial life. By the late nineteenth century, some had attained considerable prominence. One such figure was Parsi Dhanjibhoy, who is remembered for serving as a First Class Magistrate and establishing a public library at Massey Gate in 1895.

                                                                  

                                   (Tombstone of Sorab Dhanjibuy in Aramgah, Srinagar. Photo by Robin Koul, 2026 )

 

Before Partition, Rawalpindi had a substantial Parsi presence, with approximately eighty families associated with trade, business and philanthropy. In 1898, the community established a large cemetery on Murree Road, complete with a distinctive funeral building and inscriptions in English and Gujarati. The cemetery became an enduring reminder of a community whose commercial and social influence extended beyond the cities in which its members lived. Partition transformed this landscape. Many Parsi families left Rawalpindi for Mumbai, Karachi and Iran. The surviving community dwindled, and the old cemetery became an increasingly important reminder of the past. The story of the Parsis in Rawalpindi offers a useful parallel to their experience in Kashmir: a once-active community gradually diminished, leaving behind places and memories that outlasted its physical presence.

In Srinagar, Dhanjibhoy established a modest hut for himself and a long stable capable of accommodating twelve horses. In the mornings, the sound of horses being groomed mingled with the call to prayer from across the river. Dressed in a white Dugli and Topi, and speaking Urdu with a Gujarati accent, he attracted considerable curiosity. Yet he was fair in his dealings. His Tongas departed on time, and his parcels arrived intact. In a city where transport and communication depended heavily on horses, roads and human reliability, such qualities mattered. Dhanjibhoy was not merely operating a business. He was helping to maintain a connection between Srinagar and the wider commercial world beyond the Valley.

DHANJIBHOY KA AHATA LAL CHOWK

The land associated with Dhanjibhoy eventually became known as Dhanjibhoy Ka Ahata. It lay behind what would later become the Cooperative Super Bazaar in Lal Chowk, rather than directly on the Bund itself. For more than half a century, the Ahata served as one of Srinagar's principal Tonga stands. Tongas arrived and departed throughout the day, bringing passengers, carrying parcels and connecting different parts of the city with routes leading beyond the Valley. At the centre of the yard stood a huge stone tank where horses could drink water after long journeys. Around its edges sat the chaayas, or tea sellers, with their brass samovars. They served steaming cups of Chai and bread to travellers and Tongawalas.

In later years, when Tongas disappeared from the city's streets, the same Ahata became a yard for city buses. The old name nevertheless survived in the memories and conversations of the older generation.

Dhanjibhoy Ka Ahata is an example of how a name associated with a private individual can become embedded in the geography of a city. The original business may disappear, the horses may be gone, and the premises may acquire a different use, but the name continues to recall a period when the place had a distinct identity.

PATEL POLICE A NAME THAT STAYED

The second principal family was the Patels. Mr Patel was a clerk by background, with an aptitude for organising traffic and managing administrative paperwork. During the reign of Maharaja Hari Singh, when efforts were being made to modernise the administration, there was a need to bring greater order to Srinagar's increasingly busy Tonga traffic. Patel was appointed to the traffic wing. His name gradually became associated with the very system he helped administer. Within a few months, people stopped referring to the traffic police by their official designation. They began calling them the Patel Police. Whenever a tongawala blocked Residency Road, someone would suggest calling the Patel Police. Mr Patel would arrive with his notebook in hand and settle the dispute in a quiet voice, without shouting or creating a scene. His reputation rested on his ability to manage difficult situations calmly.

He lived with his wife and three children in a building on the Bund, in the premises now associated with Ahdoo's Hotel. His sons, Rustom, affectionately known as Russy, and Jahangir, popularly called Jangu, grew up speaking Kashmiri with their friends in the neighbourhood and Gujarati at home. They also had a sister.

The family was part of the neighbourhood rather than a distant or isolated presence. Its children shared the ordinary experiences of growing up in Srinagar, while their household retained its Parsi cultural traditions.

Rustom Patel became known for his sporting abilities, particularly his cricket. For some time in 1950, he served as Assistant Physical Director at Sri Pratap College. His interest in sport and his professional life connected him with a generation of young Kashmiris whose social world was not divided neatly along religious or cultural lines. Eventually, Russy moved to Mumbai.  Jangu, too, became known for his cricket. The brothers eventually left the city in which they had grown up, and the family's former residence became a reminder of a social world that was slowly disappearing. One amongst the brothers is reported to have joined some Swami’s Ashram and became its important functionary following the Swami's death. His journey from Srinagar's sporting circles to the spiritual environment of the Ashram represents another strand in the varied lives of the people associated with the Parsi community of Kashmir.

The expression Patel Police remained part of Srinagar's local vocabulary. It is one of those revealing details of urban history in which an individual's name survives long after the institution, occupation or circumstances that gave rise to it have changed.

PESTONJEE AND COMPANY AUCTIONEERS AGENTS AND STORYTELLERS

The third and most influential family was that of Pestonjee Senior, whose name is also written as Pistonjee in some accounts. He was a registered state auctioneer and one of the best-known Parsi businessmen in Srinagar.

                                                                                

                                                            ( Photo Behram Pestonjee . Photo Courtesy : Robin Koul 2026 )

 

Unlike Dhanjibhoy, he was not a transporter. His business was based on auctioneering, commercial agency and the sale of imported goods. Whenever the government needed to auction timber, or a British officer leaving Kashmir wished to sell furniture, carpets, a piano or other household possessions, Pestonjee conducted the sale. His business depended on trust, knowledge of the market and an ability to deal with people from different backgrounds. The state recognised him as an official auctioneer, and his professional standing extended beyond ordinary commercial transactions.

He was allotted land by the Maharaja, and he constructed two buildings, one for his residence and the other for business. He also rented commercial premises to other firms. One of the floors housed the India Assurance Company. The members of the Pestonjee family, including Behram and Khusroo, were associated with the insurance business. Khusroo Pestonjee was a classmate of Dr Farooq Abdullah. His sisters were Fehmi and Mehar, whose names are remembered in connection with the family's household and its Navroz celebrations. The family combined commercial activity with a recognisable presence in Srinagar's social life.

Pestonjee was an agent for several English firms and a stockist of imported goods. His business also extended to tourism and winter sports. When the Ski Club of India established its skiing activities at Gulmarg and Khilanmarg during the 1920s, Pestonjee's firm became associated with the enterprise. It supplied skiing equipment imported from England and sold it to visitors who came to Kashmir to enjoy the winter slopes.

The firm's activities were not confined to selling equipment. It also operated a tourist agency from the building constructed by the family and subsequently renovated during Maharaja Hari Singh's reign. At a time when Kashmir's tourist economy was increasingly connected with European visitors, such businesses helped facilitate travel, accommodation and the purchase of specialised goods.

Pestonjee was also the stockist of White Horse whisky. The brand became inseparable from the family's public identity because of the large wooden horse displayed outside its business premises. That horse, known throughout Srinagar as ‘Pestonjee Ka Ghoda’, became one of the most recognisable landmarks on Residency Road, Srinagar.

It is also said that Pestonjee advised Maharaja Hari Singh on the establishment of a bank in Kashmir. The Jammu and Kashmir Bank Limited was established in 1938. His name carried weight both at the Residency and in the Maharaja's Durbar.

The Pestonjee family thus represented a different aspect of the Parsi presence in Kashmir. Dhanjibhoy had connected Srinagar with the outside world through transport and postal services. Patel had become associated with the administration of traffic. Pestonjee, meanwhile, had established a commercial house that served the government, European residents, tourists and local customers.

 

THE BUND AN UPMARKET EUROPEAN ENCLAVE

Life on the Bund was markedly different from that in the rest of Srinagar. During the Dogra period, it developed into an important address for European visitors, commercial firms and establishments catering to the requirements of the British Residency and the tourist population. The shops sold goods that were difficult to find in the traditional Bazaars. These included Swiss condensed milk, English biscuits, German binoculars, French perfume, fishing rods and other imported products. The commercial character of the Bund reflected the presence of Europeans and the growing tourist economy of Kashmir.

The Srinagar Club was nearby. Indians were generally excluded from membership and access, except when serving in permitted capacities. The British Resident's office stood where the Arts Emporium is situated today, and the road was known as Residency Road. The early houseboats of Kashmir were moored along the Bund, accommodating European visitors who came to the Valley during the summer.

The three Parsi families occupied a distinctive position in this environment. They understood the requirements of European customers and could communicate in English, maintain commercial accounts and deal with imported goods. At the same time, they lived among Kashmiris, employed local carpenters and cooks, and participated in the ordinary life of the city. Their presence was therefore not simply commercial. It also represented a form of cultural interaction. They were neither an isolated European enclave nor a large local community with its own extensive institutions. They were a small group whose members had established a place for themselves through business, professional service and personal relationships.

The Bund also attracted traders and visitors from outside Kashmir. Parsi merchants were associated with the wider trade in pashmina and handicrafts during the reigns of Maharaja Ranbir Singh and Maharaja Pratap Singh. The names of some prominent Parsi figures, including Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy, come up in discussions of Parsi enterprise and trade in Pashmina Shawls.

An anecdote associated with the year 1938 captures something of their standing. Heavy snowfall had blocked the Banihal Pass, and the post from Rawalpindi had failed to arrive for ten days. The Residency was anxious about the delay. Pestonjee Senior organised his men, while Dhanjibhoy provided horses to help clear a route. The Patel family established a relay system using runners. Although this was not their official responsibility, they joined hands to help restore the communication link. The mail eventually arrived, and the Resident reportedly sent a letter of appreciation to all three families. According to the story, the letter was displayed for many years in the office of the India Assurance Company.

NAVROZ ON THE JHELUM

The Parsis never established a fire temple in Kashmir because their community was too small to support such an institution. Prayers were held in their homes, and religious observances were conducted within the family. Navroz, the Parsi New Year, was an occasion for the three principal families to come together. The celebrations at Pestonjee's residence brought relatives and friends into a shared domestic setting, preserving traditions that connected the families with their ancestral faith and cultural inheritance. The women, Fehmi and Mehar, Pestonjee's daughters, prepared traditional dishes such as Dhansak and patra ni machhi, while the Kashmiri cook prepared Nadru Yakhni. The menu reflected the meeting of two culinary traditions, one rooted in Parsi culture and the other in the food habits of Kashmir. Behram and Khusroo would appear in their traditional Dugli and Topi. Their dress was a visible expression of identity in a city where the family had become well known. Khusroo, who had been a schoolmate of the young Farooq Abdullah, was particularly remembered in Sonwar for visiting the hair salon dressed in full traditional Parsi attire. His appearance was unusual enough to attract attention, but it was also part of the neighbourhood's familiarity with the family.

The celebrations were modest in scale, as one would expect from a community of so few families. Yet their significance went beyond the food or the rituals. They offered an opportunity to preserve religious and cultural practices in a place where the Parsis had no fire temple, no large congregation and no extensive network of community institutions. Navroz on the Jhelum was therefore both a family occasion and a reminder of the community's place in Kashmir.

WHITE HORSE ON RESIDENCY ROAD

For decades, a large white horse stood outside Pestonjee and Company's premises on Residency Road. It was not a living animal but a wooden model that became one of the best-known landmarks of old Srinagar. The horse was associated with White Horse whisky, of which the Pestonjee family was a stockist. According to the family's account, the model was presented by the makers of the whisky in Edinburgh as a mark of recognition for their agents in Kashmir. It was specially packed in London and transported by sea to Bombay before being brought by rail and road to Srinagar.

                                                                          

                                                               (The White Horse inside a Mall now. Photo Robin Koul)

 

There are, however, differing recollections about the horse's original provenance. One published account of an old photograph suggests that it may have originated as a gift from a polo-playing Maharaja of Jaipur to the Maharaja of Kashmir before being acquired and displayed by a White Horse whisky dealer. The precise origin remains a matter for further historical investigation.

Whatever its original journey, the model became inseparable from the Pestonjee name. Installed outside the family's building, it faced the Jhelum and could be seen by anyone walking along Residency Road. For generations of Srinagar residents, the horse was a familiar sight. Travellers, shopkeepers, policemen and schoolchildren knew it. Nobody needed detailed directions to locate the building. People would simply say, 'Near the White Horse.' It became known locally as Pestonjee Ka Ghoda. The expression entered the city's everyday vocabulary and survived long after the original commercial establishment had changed.

The original Pestonjee building eventually disappeared, and a shopping mall was constructed on the site. The White Horse, however, survived. It was moved inside the mall, where it remains a physical reminder of the old establishment. Its relocation changed its relationship with the city. Once visible to everyone passing along Residency Road, it is now largely overlooked by people who may not know what it represents. A familiar public landmark has become an obscure object inside a commercial building. The horse deserves recognition not merely as an old advertising model but as a surviving artefact of Srinagar's commercial and social history. Its association with the Pestonjee family connects it with the larger story of the Parsis who once lived and worked on the Bund.

A LEDGER ENTRY 1899

In 2023, a young researcher from the University of Kashmir, while investigating the commercial history of the Bund, reportedly discovered an old ledger in the archives. It was identified as Dhanjibhoy's booking register from 1899. On one of its pages, written in careful handwriting, was the following entry:

“Two parcels. Books. From Miss Jones, Residency, to Mr B Pestonjee, The Bund. Charges, Four annas.”

The entry is modest, but its historical value lies in its ordinariness. It records a transaction between two named individuals, linking the Residency with Pestonjee's premises and revealing the kind of routine commercial activity that sustained the Bund. The parcels contained books. Their sender was Miss Jones, associated with the Residency, and their recipient was Mr B Pestonjee. The charge was four annas. In a few words, the ledger preserves a fragment of a working relationship that might otherwise have disappeared completely.

Such records are important to social history because they reveal the daily activities that larger political narratives often overlook. They tell us how goods moved, how people communicated and how businesses depended on trust and regularity. More than a century later, the names recorded in the ledger evoke a Srinagar where the post, the Tonga, the commercial office and the Residency were connected by a network of ordinary transactions. The record also brings together two of the central names in this story, Dhanjibhoy and Pestonjee, whose businesses helped define the character of the Bund.

NINETEEN FORTY SEVEN AND AFTER

Then came 1947. The road to Rawalpindi was closed, and the Tonga business that had sustained Dhanjibhoy for decades was severely affected. The bus service connecting Srinagar with Rawalpindi also came to a halt. The commercial relationship between the two cities, once maintained by regular transport and postal services, was disrupted by Partition. For months, the Bund remained unusually quiet as many European families departed. The commercial environment that had supported several of its businesses began to change. The Parsis adapted to the new circumstances. Dhanjibhoy converted his stable into shops. Pestonjee continued his auctioneering and insurance businesses. Patel's children pursued their education and careers. Russy, who was good at mathematics and known for his sporting abilities, eventually left for Bombay. His departure in 1952 to pursue further studies marked another stage in the dispersal of the family. Jangu followed two years later. The family house on the Bund became increasingly empty. The children who had grown up in Srinagar began establishing their lives elsewhere, and the familiar routines of the Parsi households gradually faded.

The community's decline was not the result of a single event. It reflected the cumulative effects of changing commercial circumstances, the disappearance of older forms of transport, the departure of family members and the attractions of professional opportunities in larger cities. Partition had severed an important commercial route. The old businesses had to adapt, and the younger generation increasingly looked beyond Kashmir for education and employment. Over time, the number of permanent Parsi residents diminished until the community no longer maintained a settled presence in the Valley.

PANTHA CHOWK AND THE SALE OF 1967

During the 1960s, another setback confronted the Parsi families. The state required land for development, and the Parsi holdings at Pantha Chowk, which covered a substantial area and had been used for grazing horses, were acquired for what would become the Khunmoh Industrial Estate. Dhanjibhoy was growing old, and his wife had died. His two daughters were living in Bombay. In 1967, he called Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah, who was then out of power but remained one of the most influential political figures in Kashmir, and Haji Ghulam Mohiuddin, a well-known businessman, to his hut.

He sold his property on the Bund to them through an irrevocable power of attorney for a modest sum. According to the account preserved about the transaction, he did not want the property to fall into neglect. He then boarded a night bus to Jammu and travelled by train from there to Bombay. He never returned to Kashmir. The sale marked the end of Dhanjibhoy's personal association with the Bund. The property, once connected with the sound of horses, the movement of parcels and the daily activity of the tonga stand, passed into other hands.

His former hut is now associated with Sadiq Handicrafts, Mehta Photographers and a shop called Suffering Moses. Pestonjee Senior died in the early 1970s. His sons, Behram and Khusroo, attempted to continue the family business. However, the nationalisation of the insurance business and changes in government procedures weakened their commercial activities. The auctioneering business also declined as the economic environment changed. Behram moved to Mumbai, while Khusroo remained in Srinagar for a few more years, looking after the family house and dusting the White Horse every morning. In 1978, he finally locked the house and left for Mumbai.

Their departure did not erase that association. Patel also died in Srinagar. By the time the older generation had passed away and the younger members had moved elsewhere, the three principal Parsi families no longer formed a settled community on the Bund.

THE ARAMGAH AT BADAMI BAGH

Many people may not know that the Parsi Zoroastrian Aramgah at Badami Bagh in Srinagar is one of the most important surviving physical reminders of the community's history in Kashmir. The word Aramgah denotes a place of rest, and this cemetery became the final resting place of members of the small Parsi community who lived an

According to records published by the Parsi community, Maharaja Pratap Singh granted land to the Parsi Zoroastrian community in 1893, in recognition of its services to the state and specifically for the establishment of an Aramgah. The grant is significant because it demonstrates that, although small in number, the Parsis had an established presence in the social and commercial life of Srinagar.

Over time, the state Army authorities acquired a substantial portion of the original land for the establishment of the Badami Bagh Cantonment Bazaar. The remaining Aramgah covers approximately 1.53 acres.The army not only kept the place free from any encroachment but also helped to maintain it.

The property comprises a Bungli with two rooms and a verandah, a cemetery, a hothouse and garden shed, and living quarters for a gardener or watchman. The surrounding area includes an orchard of almond and walnut trees. The Bungli was used for prayers, and the performance of obsequies before the deceased were buried in the cemetery. The Aramgah was more than a burial ground. It represented the community's religious presence in a place where no fire temple had ever been established. It provided a designated space for funerary observances and ensured that members of the community could be laid to rest according to their traditions.

                                                                                         

                                                           ( Inside the Parsi Aramgah, Srinagar: Photo Robin Koul 2026)

 

                                                                                  

                     (A stone plaque inside Aramgah, Srinagar . Photo 2026 by Robin Koul)                 

With the disappearance of the permanent Parsi population from Srinagar, the Aramgah gradually ceased to serve its original community in the way it once had. Published accounts differ about the date of the last interment. One community account gives 1986, while another later report records a funeral in 2005. The site remains an important part of Kashmir's historical heritage. It records the presence of people whose names once appeared on business premises, in commercial ledgers and in the everyday vocabulary of Srinagar.

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                                                         (The well inside Parsi Aramgah, Srinagar . Photo Robin Koul)

 

The Army maintains the property. The graves are kept clean, and the grass is trimmed. Accounts of visits to the cemetery describe approximately thirty-two intact graves, together with damaged fragments of older gravestones. Names are inscribed in English and Gujarati, preserving the identities of people who once belonged to the Valley's small Parsi community. Among the names associated with the cemetery are Dhanjibhoy and Pestonjee. The resting place of Bahram Pestonjee provides a particularly direct link between the cemetery and the family whose commercial establishment became famous for the White Horse on Residency Road. Some graves belong to children who died in infancy during the difficult winters of the past. One inscription associated with Bahram Pestonjee has been recorded as reading: 'He lived and died in the Kashmir he loved, to be remembered by what he had done.' The sentiment captures the emotional significance of the cemetery. It suggests that Kashmir was not simply a place where members of the Parsi community conducted business before returning elsewhere. For at least some of them, it became home.

The Aramgah also reminds us that the history of a community cannot be understood solely through its commercial success. Its members were born, raised, worked, formed friendships, suffered losses and died in the Valley. Their graves establish a lasting connection between the community and the place in which it lived. Inside this historic cemetery (Aaramgah) at Badami Bagh, Srinagar, are buried the following members of the Parsi community:

Seth Pestonjee Shapurji Unvala (7th Sep, 1907), Behram Navroji Pestonjee (19th Jan, 1986), Sir Barjor Jamsetji Dalal (12th Dec, 1936), Khorshed Dara Karanjavala (12th Nov, 2005), Dhun Sohrab Dhunjibhoy (20th Oct, 1965), Tehmurasp Pestonji Elavia (29th May, 1962), Earuch Tehmurasp Saklat (2nd Sep, 1950), Jehangir Dubash (5th Oct, 1938), Tehmurasp Byramjee Saklat (13th Nov, 1933), Meherbanu Heraji Kapadia (23rd Mar, 1922), Rati Kaikushru Mistry (20th Oct, 1973), Baby of Jal Laksari (21st Nov, 1921), Behramjee Ruttonjee Saklatvala (23rd Apr, 1912), Burjor P. Banaji (25th May, 1963), Baby Gulcheher Tehmurasp Saklat (6th Feb, 1908), Jehangir Dinshaw Vakil (18th Sep, 1913), Jall Mehta (17th Apr, 1917), Merwanji Kavasji Sett (22nd May, 1961), Dorabji Satha, Rumi Homi Mistry, Dinbai Jehangir Sabawala, Pirojshaw Dinshawji Bhesania (30th May, 1963), Baby Hiraji Kapadia, Capt. Hosy A. Chinoy (26th Apr, 1959), Rustom Burjorji Jehangirji Contractor (16th May, 1959) and Jamshed Bahadurji Contractor (26th May, 1959).

 PARSIS IN HIMACHAL AND PUNJAB

The decline of the Parsi presence in Kashmir forms part of a wider story of dispersal across northern India. In Punjab and Himachal Pradesh, too, the community has become very small.

In Punjab, only nine Parsis were recorded in the 2011 Census. This figure followed the decline of once-prominent Parsi families in Amritsar, including the Manekshaws, Boggas and Bhandaris, who were associated with clinics, ice factories and other commercial activities. The Bhandari family was also connected with Bhandari Bridge.Partition forced many families to move to Delhi and Mumbai, accelerating the decline of established Parsi networks in the region. Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, born in Amritsar in 1914, remains one of the best-known figures associated with the city. The deaths and departures of prominent community members further reduced the visibility of the Parsi presence. In Himachal Pradesh, the 2011 Census recorded thirty-seven Parsis: twenty-eight in Kangra, seven in Chamba and two in Sirmour. These numbers indicate a very limited presence rather than a substantial, long-established community comparable to that once found in Mumbai or parts of Gujarat. The situation in these regions resembles the experience of Kashmir in one important respect. The community's historical presence cannot be measured only by the number of people who remain today. Cemeteries, old residences, business records and family histories preserve evidence of communities that once contributed to local life.

The Parsi experience also demonstrates how migration, changing employment patterns and the concentration of economic opportunities in larger cities can gradually disperse small communities. Once their numbers fall below a certain level, the maintenance of religious and social institutions becomes increasingly difficult.

 WHAT REMAINS TODAY IN KASHMIR

There are no permanent Parsi residents left in the Kashmir Valley, and the community no longer maintains a settled presence in Jammu. Its members and descendants have largely moved elsewhere, particularly to Mumbai.

Russy Patel, now in his eighties, lives in Dadar, Mumbai. He still remembers the sound of the Jhelum in March, when the ice began to melt. Jangu, too, retains his connection with Srinagar and occasionally visits the city in which he grew up

The story of the Parsis of Kashmir is therefore not simply one of migration or demographic decline. It is also a story of belonging. These families arrived from outside the Valley, established businesses, learned to live among Kashmiris and became part of Srinagar's social fabric. Their children spoke Kashmiri with local friends, attended local schools and formed friendships that crossed cultural boundaries. They did not need a large population to leave a lasting impression. Dhanjibhoy's name survived in the Ahata associated with his transport business. Patel's name became attached to the traffic police. Pestonjee's name became inseparable from the wooden horse that stood outside his commercial premises. These names became part of the city's vocabulary.

The three families also remind us that the history of Kashmir is not confined to its rulers, political struggles, religious institutions or major cultural traditions. It includes the smaller communities whose members contributed to trade, administration, tourism and everyday urban life.

The Parsi presence was modest in numbers, but its story offers a distinctive perspective on the social history of Srinagar during the Dogra period and the decades that followed. It reveals a city in which commercial establishments, family homes, transport yards and social relationships connected people of different backgrounds.

The chinar leaves still fall every autumn. The graves at Badami Bagh remain under their quiet watch. The White Horse stands inside the shopping mall now, separated from the street where generations once knew it. The old Tonga routes have changed, but the memory of the people who travelled them survives.

(Avtar Mota)

PS

This write-up would not have been possible had my friend Robin Koul not visited the Parsi Aramgah( Srinagar )  in 2026 and clicked these historical photographs.